Harmony Café hadn’t opened yet, but the air already smelled like secrets and burnt cinnamon.

Jo stood in the back pantry, staring at a small tin canister labeled in careful, looping script: Silent Steep. It had reappeared overnight. Again.

“Third time this week,” she muttered, pushing it to the back of the shelf. Again.

From across the kitchen, Mira peeked in, holding a tea strainer that pulsed faintly. “It’s humming,” she said. “Tea’s not supposed to hum.”

Clorvex barged in carrying a crate of bat shaped biscotti and a clipboard titled Blood Orange Brew Bash Logistics. DOOM OPTIONAL. “Jo, where do you want the ritual candles? And can we do fireworks shaped like pastries?”

Jo blinked. “You want to summon dessert fireworks in a town under a potential tea curse?”

“It’s called event synergy,” Clorvex huffed.

Just then the espresso machine let out a low hiss. Not one with steam, but a sound like a whisper in a forgotten language.

Jo turned to it slowly. “Did that thing just say my name?” she asked.

Eyes wide, Mira whispered, “It said ‘you’re not ready’.”

Jo’s spine stiffened. She hadn’t told anyone, but she’d been hearing things too. Dreams in steeping water. Voices in the kettle’s boil. A memory she couldn’t quite catch dancing behind her eyes.

The tin of Silent Steep thudded to the floor. They all stared at it.

It was open.

And empty.